Boy, is it hard to keep BALANCE sometimes. Keeping up with life AND trying to fit in time to write…. that is a challenge. I start to think of ways to get more time in for writing – ‘Well, If I had woke up 2 hours ago.’ ‘If I only played 1 hour of video games.’ ‘Do I really need to spend time eating?’
All things considered, I find that the more I write, the easier it comes to me, and the more time I magically have in my day to commit to writing. Once I stop writing, it becomes harder to start back up. I get a little rusty and have to start over.
The good news is, I finished my character back story and bio. I know, you don’t NEED either of them to write well at all. You may not need them, but I am so particular about the way I do things I have to build things from the ground up or everything will just get lost in the void. My mind just becomes this violent, thrashing ocean of ideas and words when I am deep in thought. And I am going to need a bigger boat.
Any who, three cheers for me. I finished a bio and back story. This basically sets me up right to the point we want to be in our book so I can begin Chapter 2. The character is Morgan Avery. She plays a big part in said book. She comes from a broken home and abusive parents. The following excerpt is after she had went out for a bit to escape her drunk father and came to the revelation – she is moving out.
Thank you all for reading!
P.S. My food is finished, it is time to finally catch up and watch the first episode of the new season of True Blood! ::excited squeal::
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It was only a 25 minute drive back to her parent’s home across town. Located in a nice, wealthy part of town, her parents owned a one story little house. It was a disgusting picture perfect display of wealth and ‘faith’ on the outside. On the inside of the home, the deep dark depths of hell was were their true natures were displayed. One of the biggest reasons she couldn’t get into religion with her parents. Too much hypocrisy. Preach on the outside, sin on the inside. A bunch of bullshit, if you cared to ask Morgan’s opinion. The house was dark when she pulled up to it, the sensible part of her told her to be cautious, but mostly she was impatient and irrational. She just wanted it to be over and done with.
On a normal day she would sneak into her room and hide from her parents and their judgments and hypocrisy. Not today. She fumbled for her keys in the dark at the front door only to realize….
It wasn’t locked.
This was a red flag for her. Her mother was a huge freak about these things. Watching too many news stories about people and their houses getting robbed had warped her mind into a fragile thing when it came to security. If the door wasn’t locked, there would be hell to pay regardless of the fact that everyone was home. She pushed the door open gently, walking carefully into the house. In the dim light she could see the living room just enough to see that a struggle had taken place. Her mothers tacky coffee table decor was strewn about the rug. Those little potpourri balls and flakes appearing like black marks against the white carpet.
She sighed. Her father was far more drunk than she had thought. Being an abusive drunk was a recent development in her father. As she had gotten older and stopped fearing her parents, the more her father tried to contain her with force. Resorting to violence had been his new way to show his dominance. So what, she smoked some cigarettes, got some tattoos and piercings, smoked a little weed here and there. Does that really make her a bad person? Never did she bother anyone or intentionally hurt someone – no matter how bad she thought they deserved it. With a new and renewed sense of determination, she walked into the living room and closed the door.
Let’s just get the shit I need and get moving, She thought to herself. Try to avoid a confrontation. Make it a clean break.